


Gravity

by Koalagriton



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, don laying eggs, hermaphrodite don, in secret, intersex don, tcest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7298737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koalagriton/pseuds/Koalagriton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don carries a secret with him which he pushes out of his body every Spring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Donatello woke up on the daybed in his lab and groaned. He felt sore and even though he stretched and rubbed at his muscles he knew it wouldn’t be going away soon. He paced back and forth a few times around his lab breathing deeply before sitting down at his desk and turning on the monitor of his computer to check the security feed. Sliding a hand down his side he pressed his fingers into the soft skin, feeling something shift under the pressure.

 

“Just a few more weeks.” He groaned.

 

“Just a few more weeks for what?” Leonardo asked a few paces behind him making Donatello jump.

 

Spinning around quickly Donatello’s mind raced for an explanation. He hadn’t even noticed his brother walking into the lab, he needed to be more careful about that now that the date was arriving quickly.

 

“Just a simulation I’ve been working on. Needs a bit longer before it yields results.” He ventured, trying to think of the abandoned experiments he hadn’t been working on since his “condition” had worsened.

 

“Don, we need to talk.” Leonardo stated as he walked back to the door and closed it for some privacy.

 

Donatello bit back a groan. He did not need this right now. All he wanted to do was try to wake up a little and keep some breakfast down before having to worry about his sorry performance during training.

 

“I know this time of year is more… difficult for you.” Leonardo started in a soft voice. At least he didn’t seem too angry, though Don didn’t value the pitying look on his face either. “But you need to try to keep to a regular schedule as much as possible.”

 

Don’s eyes darted up to Leonardo’s, trying to discern his meaning before saying anything. Over the years he had learned to never give anything away to his brother before it was too soon. When he kept silent waiting for Leonardo to continue, his brother sighed.

 

“You’re tired during training, during meditation it gets even worse. You’ve been falling asleep almost every day and I know you can’t help a lot of the changes you go through but you really need to try sleep through the nights and not stay awake in your lab. It isn’t helping.”

 

Donatello rubbed his face as he thought of a way to respond, biting back the scathing remark he really felt like saying. “I’ll… try.” He offered lamely.

 

“No. This isn’t good enough.” Leonardo answered more firmly. “You haven’t been making an effort during training either. Even when Master Splinter calls you out on it you stay on the defensive.  I get it that you’re tired and… unfocused, but you’ve also been putting on some weight as a result of your lack of training and discipline.”

 

Donatello automatically lowered his hands to his softer thighs and then quickly recovered when he noticed what he was doing, electing to cross his arms instead. He hadn’t thought he’d put on  _ that _ much weight that it was noticeable. His midsection didn’t bulge out like in pregnant women, his plastron didn’t have much give and the eggs were small and you could only tell they were there if you pressed against his sides and felt for them. Or so he thought.

 

“You’re right.” Donatello interrupted, cutting Leonardo’s lecture short. Best to just get things over with before Leo started observing him more closely and decided to just go with Leo’s first assessment of the situation so he wouldn’t dig deeper. “It’s just so hard, Leo, you don’t know what it’s like. It’s like I can’t think straight any more and I don’t know how to handle that.”

 

Going for the pity card seemed to work, Leonardo’s stance immediately relaxed and his expression softened placing a hand on Donnie’s shoulder. It wasn’t a lie, just the incomplete truth. His focus  _ was _ completely shot and he was tired out of his skull. He’d had to set aside his more fragile experiments almost at the start of the season for that reason and now he was just too tired to get any non essential work done at all.

 

He found himself napping every chance he got, feeling completely worn out even after a long night’s rest. If his brother thought it was because he was pulling all nighters and not getting any sleep, he was fine with that. He didn’t want Leo investigating further into it.

 

“I know you’re struggling with this.” Leonardo continued after a moment of quiet. “For some reason the season affects you much more strongly than it does the rest of us. I can only imagine how it must feel for you to have your mind affected when you rely on it so much.” He frowned squeezing Don’s shoulder offering comfort. “If you need any help, you know you can come to me even if it’s just to talk. You know that, right?”

 

Donatello nodded, keeping his mouth firmly shut. He wanted to talk  _ so much _ but he wouldn’t. Leonardo wouldn’t understand, none of them would. If he told them his secret it would change  _ everything _ and he wasn’t willing to do that. Only a few more weeks and everything would go back to normal. For a time.

 

Sensing the conversation was over, Leonardo left the lab as quietly as he’d entered but this time Donatello made sure the door was firmly shut behind his brother to not be caught unawares again. Another slip like that and he could have discovered his secret or at least given him something to be suspicious about and he was too close to having to lay his eggs to be able to shake off his concerns without giving himself away.

 

If only he knew…   
  


 

* * *

 

 

At twelve years old he hadn’t been prepared for what his body had in store for him. He’d believed he was just like his brothers, he had all the same “bits” as them which was why he didn’t understand what was happening to him as he sat on the toilet, bent over on his thighs and hugging his midsection.

 

He groaned as he shuddered through another cramp, the muscles in his abdomen twisting in spasms before he suddenly felt the need to  _ push _ . He whimpered against his sweaty knees as his body trembled. He’d never felt so sick in his life.

 

Don considered briefly calling for his father when his body relaxed and he could heave panting breaths to fill his straining lungs. He’d been feeling off for a while now, attributed it to the change in weather and now he must have eaten something off and his body was doing its best to rid him of it.

 

He grunted as he bore down, teeth clenched as he dug his fingers into his arms. He barely registered the banging on the door until it was accompanied by the angry voice of his brother.

 

“Cmon! What’s taking so long!” Raph hollered through the wood. “You’ve been in there for ages! I really need to pee!”

 

“Just-” Donatello gasped, his voice breaking as he tried to talk through the pain, his vision spotting as he lifted his head instead of speaking to his knees. “-I need a minute.”

 

Fading footsteps let him know his brother had given up and he relaxed somewhat as he got ready for the next wave of nauseating pain. It didn’t last very long.

 

“Donnie? Are you ok? Want me to go get father?” Leo’s worried voice was heard next along with Raph’s angry arguing.

 

“Does he need help taking a dump?” Raph scoffed before banging on the door again. “Don! I better be able to breathe when I go in there. I swear if you stink up the lair…”

 

“Raph!” Leo berated him. “He could be sick, Don hasn’t been feeling well lately.”

 

“I’m okay!” Donatello called out in a weak voice. “I just need a few more minutes.”

 

“I don’t got a few more minutes! I need to pee!” A thump on the door was interrupted before it could continue.

 

“Just go in the tunnels.” Leonardo must have dragged him off.

 

Donatello blocked out their voices as he bore down again, feeling a bit of relief when he managed to push something out. The sting in his backside was immediately followed by relief of pressure in his abdomen and he continued. He sighed as the rest left him much easier and faster after the first and it was suddenly over, leaving him a little dizzy and disoriented.

 

He wiped himself over and over even if there was nothing more than a spot of blood and then slid off the toilet seat when he was sure he wouldn’t topple over, after regaining his breath. His legs, and most of the muscles in his body, were still trembling and his knees nearly buckled when he put his full weight on them.

 

When he turned to flush the toilet he stared for a moment. Peeking in between the pieces of paper dotted with red he could make out small, golf-ball sized white spheres. Taking a few deep breaths he put the lid down and flushed.

 

“There’s plenty of things that could make stool look like that.” He said to himself, his hand still gripping the handle of the toilet. He couldn’t think of any reasons  _ right then _ but he was sure there was a logical explanation for it. It wasn’t what it looked like, that would be silly. There was no need to worry. He flushed the toilet again before lifting the lid to make sure there was nothing there.

  
There was no need to worry.


	2. Chapter 2

Six years later Donatello was much more prepared for what Spring had in store for him. While his brothers spent their season feeling a bit more restless and agitated, Donatello spent his isolated in his lab or his room, hiding his growing discomfort once he was gravid as the eggs grew inside him and other… symptoms.

 

It was significantly worse than those first couple years but the fact that he knew what to expect and was able to plan and prepare made it less troublesome or rather, less frightening. The eggs he carried now in his late teens were significantly more and larger and instead of a single lay in spring he had to cope with two or three.

 

He calculated he must have about a dozen in him now, he thought as he pressed his hand against his side again before standing up and going for a bit of breakfast. His stomach complained at the thought, mornings weren’t so good for him in his state and as he neared the kitchen he hoped Michelangelo wasn’t making eggs. Just the thought of them made him gag.

 

He could more or less stomach them other times of year if they were scrambled and well seasoned with herbs and he didn’t have to watch Mikey break them and beat the gooey insides but in Spring he couldn’t even stand the hint of the smell they gave off when they were cooking. He spent a morning scrubbing at a pan when it was his turn to cook because he could still smell them on it even after being in the dishwasher.

 

As soon as he was in the kitchen he took one whiff and turned back around to leave, covering his nose and mouth with a hand as his stomach threatened to turn inside out even if it was empty. He darted back out of the kitchen before Mikey had a chance to turn around, deciding to head for the lab and having a breakfast of tap water and plain crackers was his best option. He didn’t get very far though.

 

“You’re not skipping breakfast again, are you?” A gruff voice stopped him in his tracks and Donatello quickly removed his hand. “You ok?”

 

“No, yes!” Donatello answered in a rush. “I mean, I’m just going to have a quick bite to eat in the lab.”

 

“That where you hide food now so we don’t see ya stuffing your face?” Raph teased and lifted a finger to poke Don playfully but Donatello’s hand shot up and covered his side, shielding it from him. The teasing smile fell off his brother’s face

 

“I didn’t mean ta... “ He began. “I was only joking, Don, Leo’s exaggerating. You haven’t put on that much weight but you know how he is.”

 

Raph rubbed the back of his head as his voice trailed off, uncomfortable at the lack of response from Don but he just didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t like them pointing out any of the changes they noticed in him.

 

“It’s the smell, isn’t it?” Raphael said after a moment and Donatello’s head shot up at him. “Yeah, thought so. It happens to all of us, can’t stand the smell of the others sometimes and I’m sure they feel the same about me. Thought you didn’t get that part as bad because you don’t smell like they do but I guess it’s just different for you.”

 

“Yes, it’s the smell.” Donatello agreed though they weren’t really talking about the same thing.

 

He hadn’t really noticed a change in smell in the others, they smelled like themselves, maybe a little stronger. He found it kind of pleasant to sit on the couch after one of them and catch their scent there, identify where they’d been by it, smell a little like them even after he’d gone off to do something else later. He knew it bugged the others sometimes when they found out someone had been sitting in their spot or touching their things, though he had assumed it was more a territorial thing, hadn’t linked it to scent marking.

 

Don found himself hiding from Raph’s inquisitive look until his brother walked away to the kitchen. “Don’t be late to practice,” he called over his shoulder, “I think Master Splinter is going to be on you after the last few days.”

 

Donatello nodded before hiding away in his lab again, groaning as he forced himself to chew and swallow a dry cracker. He could probably risk putting a little more effort and energy into training today. He stopped himself from feeling the eggs again, it was an anxious reflex and if he wasn’t careful he’d end up doing it in front of the others. They weren’t too big yet, though he would still have to be careful about receiving any blows to the midsection or be mindful of his falls, but they should still allow him to move around more or less normally.

 

It was just that he felt so tired all the time, as if his body weighed a ton and if he were left to his own devices he would probably spend most of the day dozing. His joints and muscles felt sore most of the time too and he had to be careful to not groan out loud when he’d get up from kneeling in seiza during training, his ankles and feet feeling bloated and stiff more than usual.

 

Gulping down a few more crackers washed with a sip of water he eyed the clock on his computer screen. There was no more delaying, he breathed in deeply and straightened before pulling on his gear quickly and heading to the dojo.

 

_ I can do this. _ He said to himself as he walked out of his lab.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ I can’t do this _ . He thought as he panted.

 

Even taking in deep lungfuls of air he felt as if he wasn’t getting any oxygen at all, his head felt light and his body sluggish and trembling, slick and cold with sweat. When the dojo began to spin he knew he was in trouble.

 

“Again, Donatello!” Master Splinter called out to him.

 

Sensei had been especially hard on him today, pointing out every misstep and having him repeat moves over and over. It wasn’t such a tough work out, really, and they were almost done but Don was already at his limit. His brothers looked at him from the exercises they were doing on the other side of the dojo when Donatello didn’t obey Sensei immediately.

 

“Donatello! We will not be done until you do this  _ correctly _ .” He said firmly, ignoring that his other sons had stopped what they were doing to witness his rebellion. “I have been too lenient on you recently. Your season is no excuse to neglect your abilities in this way. I shouldn’t have to be pointing out these corrections at this stage in your training, Donatello.” He stopped pacing and then stood straight, with his arms behind his back. “Again!”

 

Donatello swallowed and bit his lip, shifting his lead body into the starting position before slowly taking the first step forward. His staff slipped through his unfeeling fingers and clattered onto the floor. He didn’t have the strength to turn his head to look at his father but heard the sharp intake of his breath in outrage at the perceived defiance. He could feel himself sway in slow motion but his ears were full of the sound of his heavy breathing and the faraway echo of alarm of one of his brothers as his eyes lifted to the ceiling, his vision reduced to a pinpoint as his breath became frantic short gasps of air.

 

He didn’t hit the floor, maybe someone had caught him but he couldn’t see who it was even though he thought his eyes were still open, couldn’t respond and just listened to how the air passed through his lips. Someone was saying his name as his vision cleared and his body twitched back to life again.

 

Michelangelo was cradling him on the floor of the dojo, a terrified grimace on his face. A warm hand patted his cheek from the other side and he turned his head to find Master Splinter’s worried gaze. They were whispering to him if he was okay and he only could nod in return. Pressing his eyes closed when his stomach lurched as Mikey lifted him up a bit.

 

“You need to stop bullying him into skipping meals!” Raphael was arguing with Leonardo a few steps away.

 

“I didn’t, and lack of nourishment had nothing to do with this or he’d be losing weight instead of gaining. He’s in worse shape than we thought.” Leonardo responded.

 

_ I’m right here. _ Donatello thought but had to grit his teeth against the wave of nausea that hit him.

 

“You’re talking as if he had a beer belly and was on his ass the whole day. He’s still fit as an athlete.” Raphael bit back.

 

“It’s not good enough. Our lives depend on our form, we’re not athletes, we’re ninja.” Leonardo answered looking to Master Splinter for approval. The rat nodded at Leonardo and he crossed his arms.

 

“He didn’t have any breakfast today.” Michelangelo added perhaps to defend him or maybe just to add more to the list of “things Don is doing wrong”.

 

“That you saw.” Leonardo continued. “He’s probably binge eating in private. Must have a stash of food hidden in his lab like Mikey has in his room.”

 

“Hey!” Mikey called out and shifted his grip on Don so his arm curled around the back of his shoulders and his palm pressed right into his side.

 

Donatello flinched, brought back to full awareness by the touch and he flailed a bit to get out of Mikey’s octopus hold around him. “I’m okay! I’m-”

 

As soon as he was upright his stomach clenched and all he could do was lean forward on his hands and knees to avoid throwing up on himself. He emptied his stomach at the arguing turtles’ feet.

 

“Yeah, binging.” Raphael mocked Leonardo as he jumped back from Don. “I’d say there’s about… three crackers and a glass of water. Don must have had a party this morning in private with that stash of his.”

 

Don groaned loudly and they stopped talking, Leonardo knelt down beside him and held him in place when he looked like he was about to tip forward. “Don, are you-”

 

“I don’t have a stash.” Don replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

He wasn’t lying. Well, not completely. He did have a few things in his lab: a box of crackers, a few energy bars, some juice… It couldn’t really be considered a stash, could it? Not if they were comparing it to the closet full of potato chips, sweets and chocolate Mikey had in his room.

 

“Don’t worry about that now.” Leonardo told him gently making Don grit his teeth at the dismissal. “Can you stand? What do you want us to do?”

 

“I’m okay, I’ll just clean up and…”

 

“I got it, you go lay down or something.” Mikey said as he quickly went to fetch a dirty towel from the hamper in the room while the other two helped him get to the living room couch. He could walk on his own but he couldn’t blame them for hovering after what had just happened.

 

“I shall prepare some tea to settle your stomach.” Master Splinter said as he patted Donatello’s arm and then left for the kitchen with Leonardo in tow, most likely to talk about him in private.

 

Donatello sank into the couch with a sigh and began squirming to get comfortable. He could really use a nap right now but before he could settle in he caught Raph looking at him with an odd little smirk.

 

“Uh. I’m sorry, did I sit in your spot?” Donatello sat up from where he had comfortably squished himself into a groove for his carapace in the pillows, probably made by Raph who would usually sit right here. The hollow sort of swallowed him up snugly as it was made by a larger shell.

 

“Nah,” Raph put his hands out to stop Don from getting up. “It’s fine. You can have my spot.”

 

“I thought you didn’t like the whole smell… thing.” Donatello answered through a yawn but scooted back into the couch groove, his eyelids already drooping.

 

“I don’t like their smell. Yours is fine, it don’t bother me.” Raph lowered his voice and pulled down the blanket draped over the back to cover Don with.

 

Donatello breathed into the fabric, burying his nose into the soft material. It also smelled of Raphael. “I like it too.” He sighed as he dozed off, missing the curious look Raph gave him.

 


	3. Second time. Part 1

It was a whole year later before it happened again and at thirteen he was still no better prepared for it than he’d been at twelve. Enough time had passed that he’d been able to forget about it ever occurring, those terrifying memories and conjectures fading to the back of his mind. He’d also effectively been able to not think about the similar symptoms he’d started experiencing at the beginning of Spring, as soon as the weather became warmer, and this lack of foresight made it so that when the moment came, it was in the worst possible situation.

 

Donatello had been convinced by his brothers to sneak out that night, once Master Splinter had gone to bed, to go play in the tunnels further from their home than they were permitted to explore. Those tunnels had been flooded from the heavy rains and now that the weather had improved they were more likely to have debris that had washed up along with the sewage which improved their chances of finding something useful.

 

With the promise of treasure it wasn’t hard to persuade Don even if he was feeling poorly. Master Splinter had been adamant they not visit that section of the tunnels until the water had receded back to normal but Donnie knew now would be the time when their chances were highest of finding something.

 

He’d been ignoring the dull pain in his abdomen as he walked along the edge of the stream attributing it as discomfort from something he ate. The water was still pretty high even if the walkways weren’t submerged any more. A slightly stronger thrum of pain made Donatello pause and he leaned on his staff he was using to poke at the stuff floating in the water until it passed several seconds later.

 

“There’s nothing here!” Michelangelo whined as he stepped up to Donatello and latched onto his arm.

 

“We’ve only just started, Mikey.” Don answered back, distracted from his discomfort.

 

“But I’m so booooored!” He whined again, swinging slightly with each word, his chin pressed against Don’s shoulder.

 

“Yeah, this isn’t fun at all. This blows!” Raphael answered as he kicked an empty can into the water.

 

“Raph!” Leonardo chastised. “Mind your language!”

 

“This blooows.” Mikey parroted in a sing-song voice.

 

Leonardo looked back at him with a “see what you’ve done?” face.

 

“Blows isn’t a bad word, Leo.” Raph answered defiantly but glanced back at him a little uncertainly. “Come on! Let’s play follow the leader! I’m leader, you gotta follow me!”

 

Before anyone really had a chance to respond Raph was off, racing down a tunnel. Mikey took one look and laughed, chasing after his brother in the new game and the others followed after him even if Don really wanted to keep looking through the refuse. He didn’t want to stay behind on his own, the tunnels were pretty dark even with his big flashlight.

 

Donatello was steadily falling behind as the game continued. Not only was he already pretty out of breath but the pain in his middle had been getting increasingly worse making his steps falter and his stride shorten. Then the first spasm of real pain hit, surprising him and making him fall to his knees abruptly with a whimper.

 

He wrapped his hands around his stomach, gritting his teeth until it was over. Once he could breathe again he rose on shaky legs and began to walk in the direction his brothers had run off to but froze when the memory came to him.  _ It was happening again. _ It was just like last year when he’d had those terrible stomach cramps but now he was very far away from the safety and privacy of his bathroom.

 

He pressed a hand to the wall of the tunnel holding himself up against it and also leaning heavily on his staff. There was no way he’d be able to chase down his brothers. He couldn’t even hear their loud voices or catch a glimpse of the glow of their flashlights and he was so far from home...

 

He could feel another spasm start to rip through him as he just stood there whimpering, not knowing what to do. If his brothers were with him they could carry him home if necessary but on the other hand, something in his brain was insisting that he needed to go find somewhere dark and private to hide, to curl up until it was time to push.

 

Even if his brothers were with him, he didn’t think he’d be able to get home in time. He followed his instinct, didn’t want to squat out in the open anyway, taking small measured steps into a closed runoff tunnel they’d passed recently and pushed aside some cardboard at the back.

 

Another wave of pain washed over him, this time the reprieve was much more brief and he groaned loudly before covering his mouth. Curled into himself in a fetal position, he didn’t care he was sitting in the dirt, his face close to the foul smelling ground. He squeezed his eyes closed when it felt as if the pain would never subside, fat tears soaking into his mask as he gasped through his teeth.

 

He tipped forward, taking his weight on his forearms, his hand clasped around a wrist and pressing his forehead against his pale knuckles as he dug his fingers into his skin. The pain let up after a while and he panted.  _ Had it been this bad last time? _ He thought, tried to remember what it had been like sitting on the toilet a year ago and he didn’t recall it being this painful.

 

He was finding it harder not to scream out in pain each time. Fear of discovery was the only reason he was keeping his volume down at all. As time went on, the intermissions between cramps was almost non existent. He was squirming against the ground, his feet scraping against the grime as he writhed in pain until he was overcome with the need to push.

 

Donatello spread his knees, his elbows still digging into the ground with his head low and bore down with all his strength, wanting to be rid of whatever was making him feel so sick. He’d probably have to look up his symptoms when he returned home, find treatment for whatever it was. Maybe they could find medicine somewhere that would help him. He never wanted to go through this again.

 

A wail escaped him as he felt his tail stretched painfully wide while his muscles convulsed and twisted under his plastron. Too far gone to be worried about making noise, his whole focus was on getting this OUT of him NOW. A large mass slipped out of him and he felt slight relief before the urge to push increased again, separating his feet to not touch what might as well have been a boulder coming out of him with how much it hurt.

 

He lost track of time, didn’t know how long it had been since he started and wasn’t sure what he’d find once the pain receded. He concentrated on just breathing until his body began to relax and he could lift himself up from his elbows, shuffle forward a little awkwardly on his hands and knees spread a little wide to avoid any further discomfort on his throbbing tail.

 

It felt like he had embers between his legs as he turned to have a look at the result of his sickness and froze.  _ That couldn’t be… right _ . He patted the floor beside him until he got hold of the flashlight that had been pointing at the wall. He turned the ray towards the chalky lumps in the corner and cried out in alarm. Those were… they couldn’t be.

 

Eggs.

 

Five of them, white and glistening with fluid and laced with blood, about the size of oranges but long and oval shaped, sitting horizontally. Some of them, most of them, had little dents on them and he lifted a trembling finger to touch one, feeling the shell give a little.

 

He’d laid eggs.

 

It wasn’t possible. He was a boy, a  _ male _ . Males didn’t lay eggs! And yet, there they were defiantly  _ existing _ before him. Along with the shock and disbelief he felt a seething anger bubble up inside him, a sense of betrayal directed at his own body..

 

Why was this happening to him? He couldn’t dismiss it this time, it was going to happen again, probably in another year and it could be getting worse. He was almost certain the first time they hadn’t been that large or that many. There was no way he could have flushed these eggs away. What was he going to do?

 

He wasn’t a girl, he had a penis and was like his brothers, he was just like them and he was certain none of them had gone through anything like this before. Donatello was well aware of the fact that they were mutants, different to the rest of the world, rejected and shunned by a society where there was nothing even remotely similar to them. They lived in the dark, in their garbage and among their waste and it would always be this way but in that knowledge of isolation and rejection he’d always felt some sense of belonging. There were three others just like him, in different colours and personalities but they were the same. Except now he wasn’t. That feeling was being peeled away from him as he stared at the evidence that he was a freak of nature even compared to mutants.

 

_ What am I? _

 

The term hermaphrodite hovered on his tongue, tasting bitterly. He’d seen something about snails on some documentary but this kind of thing didn’t happen to turtles, couldn’t remember a single word about it in the turtle books his father had given him and he’d read them over and over from cover to cover.

 

_ This isn’t normal. I’m not normal.  _ He concluded, and his angry gaze settled on the white ellipsoids that had overturned his life. His eyes shifted to his plastron, hiding treacherous organs, letting him believe all his life that he was one thing and now bringing him pain and loneliness.

 

He couldn’t tell the others, he realised. Whether they intended to or not they’d treat him differently, like a girl, like something in between. Donatello already felt a growing distance from his brothers just for being smarter, for liking different things than them. This was something huge and it would change everything. He didn’t want to see disgust and fear on their faces, didn’t want them to look at what his body had produced against his wishes, what had come out of… him.

 

He bowed his head, still feeling a bit dizzy from the strain he’d just been through, his cheeks heating with the intense shame along with the burn between his legs, the soreness in his midsection. He tried to swallow the shame, bury it under his fury until his fists were shaking at the unfairness of it all, his breath hissing angrily through his nostrils at how alone in his grief he felt and in one sudden movement he grabbed a large piece of cardboard and smashed it down with all his weight on the culprits.

 

Donatello almost jumped back at how easy the cardboard has crushed what was underneath it, the soft resistance followed by a pop with a wet squelch, a tiny bit of a crunch as some of the eggs held together under his hands, separated by the creased cardboard. He began sobbing and shaking, only a warbled whimpering at first, feeling a mix of anger and guilt, desperation and fear but tried to focus on the rage.

 

His cries were coming out in high pitched whines hissed out with his breath through his bared teeth, his tears clouding his vision as he lifted his fists and began pounding the cardboard in fury. When that wasn’t enough he stood unsteadily and began stomping on it, not stopping as long as he could still feel shapes beneath his feet, wouldn’t be satisfied until he had destroyed them completely. He wanted them gone, he wanted them to have never existed but he would settle for erasing every trace of them that he could right now.


	4. Chapter 4

previously...

 

His cries were coming out in high pitched whines hissed out with his breath through his bared teeth, his tears clouding his vision as he lifted his fists and began pounding the cardboard in fury. When that wasn’t enough he stood unsteadily and began stomping on it, not stopping as long as he could still feel shapes beneath his feet, wouldn’t be satisfied until he had destroyed them completely. He wanted them gone, he wanted them to have never existed but he would settle for erasing every trace of them that he could right now.

 

* * *

 

 

A sound reached him through his sobbing, his name, being yelled by his father and echoed by his brothers. He jumped back fearfully, covering his mouth with a hand before pulling it away quickly at the foul smell. They might have heard him, they sounded far away but they were headed this way.

_ They’re going to find me here. They’re going to see what I did. _ Donatello thought, full of dread.

Donatello yanked the nearby boxes and plastic that was laying around and covered the corner where the evidence lay. Then he turned and stumbled out of the narrow tunnel, half running on his quivering legs as quickly as he could go, ignoring the aches as he headed in the opposite direction, trying to lead them as far away from that place as possible.

His body was having none of it, though, betraying him yet again as his vision blurred and swam. He gulped down air that didn’t seem to be making it into his lungs and stopped for a moment to try get a hold of himself but couldn’t go on any longer, sinking to the ground slowly against the curved wall of the pipe he was in.

He hadn’t gone far enough.  _ I can’t let them find it. _ He thought as he crawled a bit further but flinched away from the beam of light and huddled into the wall when it shone on him.

“There! He’s over there!” Michelangelo’s voice echoed through the sewers in a way he wasn’t sure of the direction he was coming from.

He heard the pounding of footsteps and warm hands followed soon after, stroking his cold, damp skin, lifting and turning his face as they asked him questions that rung in his ears and his spinning head. He only managed to shake his head before those warm hands were lifting him and turning him until he was draped over a curved carapace. His arms were held firmly over warm shoulders until the hands drifted down to the backs of this thighs.

Donatello whined pitifully in his haze before he could stop himself at the sharp pain as his legs were spread to fit around the back of his brother, now carrying his weight, yelping when he was jerked up with a little jump so he wouldn’t slide off him. He kept his jaw firmly shut as they began walking home. A warm hand fell on the top of his knee and then drew back suddenly only to be replaced by the soothing feeling of slow circles being rubbed into his carapace which he focused on and drifted, trying to ignore his discomfort with each jarring step.

Light streamed in through the grates they passed and he realised he must have spent the whole night missing, it was already morning. When his arms stopped feeling numb he wrapped them around his brother, carrying him on his back, trying to jostle him as little as possible. Don was high enough on him that he could turn his face into his brother’s neck, burying his nose in the warmth and the familiar scent.

_ Raph. _

His brother made no sound as Don’s wet snout was pressed against him. Didn’t complain or comment as Don wept silently on him, allowing the water to leak from his eyes and nose without a sound. His steps didn’t falter when Don’s breath hitched, his grip on his brother remained strong and steady until they were safe at home.

Master Splinter had Raph carry Don into the bathroom even though by then he could walk on shaky legs and then dismissed them as he helped Don clean up, going over the scrapes and bruises on his elbows and knees after gently scrubbing off the grime under the warm water in the shower, not caring that his fur and robes were getting soaked.

“I can… do it myself.” Donatello insisted again but his father wouldn’t allow him to hide and take care of his wounds alone.

He wanted to tend to Donatello himself and went over every scratch with antiseptic until he paused, his hands falling gently on his son’s shoulders. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asked quietly, watching Donatello carefully with worried eyes.

Donatello couldn’t hold his gaze and relaxed his legs when he noticed he had pressed them tightly closed at the question. “No.” He answered after a couple seconds, forcing himself to look back into his father’s eyes.

“Are you sure?” Splinter inquired again lifting a hand to cradle warm olive green cheek.

“Yes.” Donatello answered a little more firmly.

Master Splinter sighed, not looking relieved at all and knelt in front of his son who sat on the lip of the toilet wrapped in his large purple bath towel. “What happened, my son?”

Donatello let out a shaky breath as he gathered his thoughts. A simple lie would be best, easy to remember and as close to the truth as possible. “We went out when we weren’t supposed to.” He began, stalling a little, knowing this part he already knew. “I wanted to go to the big Northwest collector tunnel to see if anything good had washed up with the rain but Mikey got bored.” He bit his lip, wondering how much trouble he was in already with just the introduction to his story.

Master Splinter motioned him to continue. “We started playing follow the leader but I wasn’t feeling too well.”

“Your stomach?” Master Splinter asked.

“Y-yes.” Donatello nodded as he remembered the nausea he had been experiencing in the past weeks. “And I fell behind. I lost them and tried to catch up but I got turned around. I was disoriented…”

“What happened next?” His father asked with a soft voice.

Donatello’s gaze shifted to the side and then to the floor. There was nothing really he could come up with that could account for everything but he had nothing else he could say. “I fell.” He said simply.

Master Splinter waited for him to continue but when nothing else was said he drew his son’s gaze back to him with a finger on Donatello’s chin. “Where did you fall?”

“I-I’m not sure.” Donatello faltered. “I was disoriented, I didn’t know where I was.”

“What happened after you fell?” Master Splinter insisted.

“N-nothing. I just fell.” Dontallo kept his gaze on his father’s though every cell in his brain was telling him to look away before he saw the lie in his eyes.

“Is that how you got these scrapes?” Master Splinter asked, his fingers ghosting over the inflamed welts on his knees.

“Yes.” He answered.

Master Splinter sighed and sat back on his heels. “You were missing the whole night, Donatello. Gone for hours. We couldn’t find you even though I retraced your steps with your brothers.”

“I didn’t realise so much time had passed. I… wasn’t feeling well. I might have wandered in the wrong direction. I think I threw up at some point.”

“Do you know how we found you, Donatello?” Master Splinter interrupted, waiting for Donnie to shake his head. “We heard…” He paused and swallowed. “...a terrible noise.”

Don’s eyes widened a fraction before he schooled his face, his gaze had drifted down to his knees. They had heard him.

“It was a terrible scream, my son.” Master Splinter’s voice broke. “I thought you were…” His voice trailed off.

“I’m sorry.” Donatello whispered.

“We didn’t know where you were, tried to head in the direction we thought we heard you in but it still took us a while to find you.” Master Splinter paused a moment to breathe, steadying himself as they remained in silence.

“I didn’t meant to frighten you, I’m not sure what happened I… was feeling sick and dizzy and couldn’t find my way home…”

“Was there anyone else there with you?” Master Splinter asked firmly. “Did anyone harm you?”

“No.” Donatello answered in a bit of a daze, the direction of the questioning throwing him off. “No.” He said more loudly when Master Splinter kept searching his gaze.

They sat in silence for a minute, Master Splinter’s grip had slipped to Don’s arms where he held him tightly, not allowing him to escape. “Are you certain?”

“I fell.” Donatello stated clearly and then held his tongue, allowing the silence to continue until Master Splinter released his grip and stayed quiet while his father applied plasters and bandages to some of the more serious abrasions on the top of his feet.

He rose as soon as they were finished, still a little wobbly but ducked away from Master Splinter when he reached out to steady him. He made a conscious effort not to limp or walk funny but knew he was moving very slowly and stiffly as he made his way out to the lair. He wanted nothing more than to burrow into his covers and sleep for a week but it was morning and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now.

When he reached his brothers he noticed his bed roll had been laid out for him along with the others and he sighed in relief. He shuffled his way over to it as they flanked him without saying a word.

They’d set up the bedding so the edges touched where there would normally be enough space to walk around and his bedroll was in the middle instead of on the end. Don knelt as soon as he reached the foot of the bed, ignoring the way Raph’s hands had shot out to catch him only to fall back to his sides a moment later.

“I’m okay.” He whispered as he crawled on his hands and knees and pulled back the covers. 

The scrapes should have been bothering him but all he could feel was the deep, throbbing pain that emanated from his core. He gingerly crept underneath them settling for lying on his carapace even if he usually found it more comfortable to sleep plastron down to not put pressure on his belly, inflamed tail resting limply against the bedding and his legs slightly parted so nothing touched.

His brothers got in bed and his father dimmed the lights, leaving on a lamp in the corner where he sat to meditate. Mikey was laying on his side, facing him right on the edge of his bedding. He snaked an arm under their covers and brushed Don’s arm with his fingers. When he didn’t respond he slid it over chest and left it there, a comfortable weight Donatello covered with his own hand.

Taking it as an invitation Mikey scooted forward into Don’s bed, as close as he could get without aggravating his wounds and pressing his chin against Don’s shoulder. When the weight on his chest increased he opened an eye to find a leaf green arm on Mikey’s, Leonardo curled around his smaller brother’s carapace. After a moment Raphael just threw back his own covers, got up on his knees and got into Don’s bed on his other side, pressing himself against Don.

They’d probably have questions for him tomorrow. His own father had believed… he’d thought he’d been assaulted, possibly raped. He wasn’t sure what Master Splinter had noticed but he’d made sure he answered those questions as firmly as possible, although... He grit his teeth and tensed as he felt his body begin to shake at the thought. His brother’s shifting closer to him in response and Mikey nuzzling his shoulder.

In a way, he  _ had _ been raped. It was what he felt like. He’d been violated by his own body and in a year it would happen all over again. The weight of that truth settled over him and made breathing difficult. When he noticed what he was doing he made a conscious effort to breathe silently through his mouth before he alerted the others. He had to accept that he wouldn’t be able to stop this, it was a law of nature as inexorable and inescapable as gravity.


	5. Chapter 5

Present Day

 

Donatello stirred from the warmth of his cocoon on the couch. He’d dozed off as soon as he was tucked in, surrounded by the scent of his family. He opened his eyes to see the lights were dimmed in the lair. Had he slept the whole day away? His body still felt heavy and tired despite the additional rest and he wished he could stay there until the next morning.

 

Breathing in deeply to try dissipate the cobwebs in his head he stopped when he felt a puff of air against his skin. He turned his head and found it pressed against a warm forest green cheek.

 

“Shhh.” Raph whispered against him. “Go back to sleep.”

 

“Raph?” Donatello responded, his head clearing as he noticed the position he was in. He had definitely not fallen asleep cradled against him,  _ in his lap _ , so when had this happened?

 

Donatello opened his mouth to say something but it turned into a gasp when Raph turned his head into Don’s neck and pressed a long, lazy kiss into him.

 

“Raph, what?” Don asked again through his confusion.

 

“Let me take care of you.” Raph replied, his lips tickling Don’s skin and making him shiver. 

 

“Relax.” He ordered as rough hands stroked down Don’s shoulders, fingers pressing into his aching muscles as they advanced.

 

Donatello sighed and leaned back, as much as his carapace allowed, into the solid warmth that was Raphael as his brother slowly loosened his sore muscles, working his arms all the way down to his wrists where he spent a while circling and rubbing. Once he seemed satisfied with that, his arms snaked under Donatello’s to lay flat against the top of his plastron before sliding down too. He shuddered at the feeling of Raph dragging his hands over the grooves, tensing when they slid over to his softer, exposed sides.

 

With increasing dread he lifted his arms to push himself away but realised, with horror, that he couldn’t, his arms were tethered at the wrists. “Raph! Wait!” He exclaimed, tugging on the straps that held his arms down.

 

“Shhh… It’s okay.” Raph nuzzled into his neck as Don’s body jerked against him. “It’s fine, Donnie, it’s fine.” He repeated as his hands pressed against him, digging into the softer parts of his flesh and pushing against the eggs.

 

Donatello turned his face away and whimpered, shuddering at the feeling of the eggs sliding and moving against each other within him. He  _ hated _ that feeling. He waited for the moment when Raph noticed it and realised something was wrong with him, that those lumps shouldn’t be there, but it never came.

 

“It’s okay, Donnie, I told you. I’ll take care of you.” Raphael repeated again as his hands stopped probing his sides and drifted down to his hips.

 

Turning back to Raph he tried to get a look at his expression but he was too close to see his eyes, could only get a good view of his chin and a soft smile curling his lips before that smile was pushed against his brow, right between his eyes on his mask and then further down to press another soft kiss on his snout. A hand curled under his chin, lifting his face so the smile could wander lower to cover his own mouth, joining with a sigh from Don.

 

It wasn’t so much that he’d wanted to kiss his brother or wondered what it would be like but more about the relief that coursed through him at feeling the acceptance from him, the love his brother was offering him with his affections. The kiss ended quickly, not much more than a soft press of lips together, chaste and brief.

 

“I told you it was okay, Donnie.” Raph told him again with a smile that Don heard more than saw, his eyes still closed as Raph’s hands kept exploring over his hips and stroking down his legs.

 

“Since when did you know?” Don asked though his mind was drifting again.

 

“Since always.” Raph answered after a deep, thoughtful hum spreading his own legs that were framing Don’s as he sat between them, making space to gently pull Don’s knees apart, hands kneading the inside of Don’s soft thighs.

 

Donatello let out a whimper when Raph’s fingers curled into him, caressing his tail but Raphael shushed and nuzzled that sound away and it turned into a soft, needy moan as sure fingers stroked him, slippery with Don’s fluids emanating from his thickening tail. As soon as the head of his penis emerged, Raphael was tugging on it gently, coaxing it out and then stroking him in long, steady movements.

 

Donatello was writhing against Raphael, whimpering and moaning uncertainly as his body reacted to what Raphael was doing but uneasy at the helplessness of being tied down, unable to stop it even if he wanted to, unsure he actually wanted this. He grit his teeth to try muffle the sounds he was making, frightened someone else might hear him and come to see what was going on, surprised it hadn’t happened already. They were in the middle of the open living room and every small sound seemed to echo around them, the wet sounds of Raph’s hand sliding over his clock obscenely loud in his ears. The pressure around his member was steadily increasing as his brother held him more firmly and sped up, to the point where it felt a little painful before Raphael stilled.

 

Raphael’s firm squeeze made Don shake and he barely registered Raph’s other hand lifting his knee to hook Don’s leg over his own to have him spread wider. Don tugged at the straps binding his wrists again now that the building pleasure had been cut short, feeling more uncomfortable and exposed with every moment that passed.

 

“I’ll take care of you, Don.” Raph said lowly and this time the tone of voice started to frighten Donatello. Gone was the warm whispers and gentle hands, Raph’s voice was cold and his grip painful on him as he began to  _ pull _ .

 

“Stop!” Donatello screamed as he realised Raphael wasn’t going to and with a sickening squelch and surprisingly little pain his brother pulled his member cleanly  _ out _ of him and let it fall through his fingers to the floor with a wet thud.

 

The sound ripped him out of his disbelieving haze and Don started thrashing against the binds and Raphael’s grip, fighting to be released as he watched Raph’s blood-slickened hands return to his body painting his thighs with red stripes.

 

“You don’t need that anymore, Don.” Raph’s cold, serious voice told him.

 

“Why are you doing this?!” Donatello wailed. He could barely move even though he was trying with all his strength, Raphael might as well have been made of concrete and the leather straps iron shackles.

 

“I know what you are, Don.” He continued as his fingers reached for his tail, pulling it away from his body and spreading his slit open. “You don’t need that any more, this is the only thing that matters, it’s what you were made for, Don.” Raphael’s fingers dipped into him, into the blood like a brush in a pot of paint and then drew lines up his sides to rest against the eggs that pushed against his skin.

 

“No!” Donatello screamed and finally jerked forward, free of his bindings and tumbled onto the floor in a heap of blankets, panting on his hands and knees as he looked around the well-lit lair wildly, then back over his shoulder to an empty couch.

 

He pulled the blankets off himself and looked down to clean, bloodless thighs, patting his body for anything amiss. Finding nothing except the usual sore muscles he was used to, he leaned back against the foot of the couch with his face in his hands and tried to squash the panic that was still coursing through him.

 

“Don?” Leonardo asked from somewhere on his left and he quickly turned in his direction. “Is everything alright?”

 

“I…” He began to say, still a little disoriented and out of breath, pulling his hands away from his body when he noticed Leonardo following them with an odd look.

 

“Does anything hurt?” Leonardo asked him, suddenly too close, putting a cool hand on his shoulder as he bent down on one knee beside him and the other hand reaching for Don’s abdomen.

 

Donatello jerked away from his touch, scrambling to his feet and turning to hide from his brother’s scrutiny as he fiddled with the blanket, taking too much care in folding it. “No, no, just a bad dream.”

 

He finished folding the blanket and turned to leave, ignoring the silence that hung between them and the way Leonardo pressed his lips into a thin line, hoping to be able to escape into the lab and away from his searching gaze. He couldn’t afford Leonardo to become suspicious or worried about his health. He hadn’t been doing much of a good job in that department especially after his performance in training that morning. He’d been so worried about his weight gain and appearing to be physically normal that he’d put himself in a position where his body hadn’t been able to take the strain.

 

Stepping into his lab he sighed and closed the door behind him. He’d have to do something about that, he thought as he rummaged through the medical supplies on the side of his lab set up as an infirmary. The truth was his body needed the extra nutrients even though he had a tendency in this state to put on a bit of fat and retain liquids giving his arms and legs a softer, rounder curve that Leonardo was noticing. It was preferable that he be told off for the extra weight than alarming his brothers if he fainted again, though.

 

Donatello removed some tubing and a needle from the cabinet along with a vial and a band to wrap around his arm. Taking a blood sample was easier when he asked one of his brothers for help but that usually meant Leonardo and he couldn’t really have him asking questions. Just as he was finishing the thought, the door to is lab opened and said brother stepped inside.

 

_ He could have knocked, _ Donatello thought, annoyed that he’d been caught by the last person who he wanted to see. He sidestepped to keep his body between Leonardo and the items he had retrieved to avoid questions but Leonardo walked right up to him to see what he was doing.

 

“I thought you said you were fine.” Leonardo stated as he looked at the items Donatello had attempted to hide.

 

Donatello sighed a little harder than he’d meant to, showing his frustration and making Leonardo frown, the lines of worry on his brow deepening. “I meant just now.” He decided to give part of the truth, after being caught. “I was going to run a few blood tests after this morning.”

 

“What do you think it is? Do you have any theories?” Leonardo crossed his arm over his chest, the fingers of his other hand touching his chin as he slipped into “leader mode” just like when he asked Donatello for options during a mission.

 

“I have a few, but we’ll see.” It was probably anemia, maybe folic acid deficiency too but he kept his thoughts to himself. The last thing he needed was Leonardo watching his every move.

 

Their diet wasn’t as varied or as healthy as he really needed it to be in his state but they didn’t have many options in that regard. They were usually fine with whatever scraps they could scavenge and April occasionally getting them some groceries. They didn’t really have income for that to become their everyday food supply though and they couldn’t ask April to feed their whole family. Ideally, he should be taking iron supplements and prenatal vitamins but that wasn’t something he could ask April to get for him without raising suspicions, meaning they’d have to hit a pharmacy with the risk that one of his brothers noticed what it was he was taking.

 

Maybe he could get away with a transfusion. His eyes automatically darted over to the refrigerated cabinet where he stored their blood bags in case of injury. It was a quick-fix he could do in a few hours at night but their blood reserves weren’t great. Donatello reached for the rubber band but Leonardo pulled it from his fingers and tied it around his arm. He’d almost forgotten he was there and hadn’t noticed he’d put on the latex gloves, two fingers empty and hanging uselessly.

 

“How much do you need?” Leonardo asked quietly as he retrieved the rubbing alcohol and cotton to clean the area of skin before reaching for the needle.

 

“A vial.” Donatello answered just as softly, sitting down on the infirmary bed as Leonardo felt for a vein, his other hand drawing soothing circles on his arm.

 

Donatello had shown all of his brothers first aid and how to assist him with these procedures even if none of them liked it. Leonardo was the one who ended up helping him more often than not except when he was the one being tended to. He probably saw it as his duty as the oldest but he still hesitated before inserting the needle, caressed his skin gently stalling for time as a way of counteracting the hurt he was going to inflict even though for Donatello it was unnecessary, he didn’t mind the needles much.

 

Leonardo’s hand stilled and he hissed slightly in empathy when he pricked Donatello but the soothing movement was back once the vial was being filled, his eyes glued to the red liquid as Donatello watched him. It was something so simple and small but in moments like these when he felt he was being cared for with such tenderness, when he felt so close to his brother he felt like telling him everything.

 

He didn’t though.

 

Donatello knew his brothers cared for him, knew it probably wouldn’t change much even if he told them his secret but it was everything else he was worried about. If Leonardo was already hard on him for putting on a little weight (which he’d check next once his brother was out of the lab) he couldn’t even imagine how he’d act if he knew the extent of his condition. Well, he  _ could _ imagine it, rather vividly, and those thoughts stayed his tongue.

 

_ It was definitely anemia _ . He muttered to himself as he emerged from the lab later on for dinner.

 

Donatello ignored the surprised look Michelangelo gave him when he took the plates he was carrying to help set the table. They were used to having to drag him away from the lab in the evenings, arriving to a covered plate of cold dinner sitting on the kitchen counter for him.

 

During this season and while he carried eggs, Donatello made more a point to eat regularly even though he would still wait out his family feigning work. He was more hungry and was a bit self conscious of being watched when he ate, wondering if he was eating too much or too fast or if they would say something about the flavour combinations he was craving.

 

That was before he found out Leonardo thought he was binge eating in private, instead of sneaking slices of banana dipped in mayonnaise, something he wouldn’t touch with a bo-staff at any other time of the year. He  _ was _ eating a little more, but it was most definitely not binging.

 

Raphael walked into the kitchen next, towel over his shoulders, drying a light sheen of sweat from his workout. He stopped mid-step when he caught sight of Donatello, his mouth even hanging open for a second and Don turned around to Michelangelo to ask if he needed any help and look over his shoulder at what he was cooking to avoid Raph’s look.

 

Michelangelo was stirring a pot of chili con carne which was more like chili con “stuff from the fridge that was going to go off” but Donatello’s mouth was watering anyway. He’d had a quick sandwich for lunch in his lab as he ran the tests in private and his stomach was growling at him to be fed. He hoped no one else could hear it over the sound of the fan over the stove and the sound of glasses and cutlery being placed on the table.

 

“Hungry?” Mikey asked him over his shoulder with a pleased smile.

 

No such luck. Donatello fought the heat in his cheeks and stepped back from his brother, noticing how eager he looked, almost as much as he felt, and nodded. Raph stepped up to Michelangelo’s other side to peer into the pot and Don noticed Mikey scrunch up his face in disgust.

 

“What’s that supposed to be?” Raphael asked nodding to what Mikey was stirring but lifting the lid off a second pot to peer in at what looked like plain white rice.

 

“Dude!” Mikey complained instead of answering his question, waving a hand in front of his face. “Have you heard of a shower? You could at least step under the water a little.”

 

Raphael caught Don’s look and he gave him a wink. “Yeah, I could… if I wanted to.” He replied.

 

With the table set Donatello sat down in his usual spot but on his left Raph hung his towel on the back of the chair and sat down, where Leonardo usually sat. Donatello gave him a questioning look but Raph just half shrugged and smiled.

 

“Someone want to go tell Don to- Oh.” Leonardo stopped short when he caught sight of Don already seated at the table before his eyes focused on Raph sitting smugly. “That’s my-”

 

“I don’t see your name on it.” Raph interrupted.

 

Instead of sitting in Raphael’s spot, in front of his own and right where he was standing, Donatello was surprised to see him walk all the way around him and sit down in Mikey’s, on his right with a frustrated sigh.

 

“Is this a game I’m not understanding?” Donatello asked though he was pretty sure it had something to do with the whole scent thing Raph had told him about. If he was completely honest, he didn’t mind Raph’s spicy scent at all so he didn’t mention their seating arrangements.

 

“Oh come on!” Mikey whined when he arrived with the pot of food, the placemat tucked under his arm. “That was my spot!”

 

Raphael only crossed his arms, daring Leonardo to say something to him when he’d blatantly done the same.

 

“Come on, get up! Leo!” Mikey insisted, trying to nudge him out of the way.

 

“Just sit anywhere else.” Leonardo answered but after being nudged again and seeing the pot dangerously close to tipping over onto the floor, Leonardo gave in, moving over to where Raphael usually sat across from Don.

 

“Should I play some music and then stop at a random moment?” Donatello asked after the exchange, messing with them a bit at their childish behaviour. “I would think we’re a little old for musical chairs but to each their own.”

 

Michelangelo didn’t even bother to hide the way he stuck his tongue out at Leonardo when he got his way even if he was in plain sight of Master Splinter who’d just stepped in the kitchen. “Donatello, I am pleased you are joining us for dinner today.”

 

It was Donatello’s turn to feel a little embarrassed at being singled out but he just smiled back as they began to serve the food and eat. Thankfully, no one made any mention of Donatello’s performance earlier and they didn’t even seem to be watching him very closely at all. He relaxed after a while, listening in on the easy conversation Mikey was monopolising about his latest video game achievements and the plot twists in his latest comic.

 

Done with his portion Donatello reached for a second helping of chili, missing the way Splinter frowned as he watched him. He was still quite hungry and figured the beans and meat had high iron content and he could use a little more of that. He’d probably have to figure out how to get the iron supplements, maybe if he talked to Leonardo about the anemia it would be fine but the prenatal vitamins were off the table. Perhaps he could-

 

“Are you sure you want to eat that?” Leonardo’s voice, though level and quiet cut through the conversation at the table and everyone turned to Donatello who had frozen with the spoon partially lifted from the pot. “Maybe, you’ve already had enough.”

 

Donatello lifted his eyes back to his family, momentarily stunned into silence at the unexpected remark before turning back to what he was doing. He slowly lowered the spoon back into the pot as he bit the inside of his cheek and sat back with his hands palms down on his soft thighs in front of his empty plate as they all watched.

 

Leonardo was probably right, he shouldn’t have gone for the extra food, at least not in front of the others. He shouldn’t have been so careless. Next time he’d wait and then maybe later on in the night go back for more. The tense silence continued though and Donatello didn’t dare lift his gaze to the others to see their disapproval.

 

“Jeez, Leo, don’t be a jerk!” Michelangelo said suddenly, diverting everyone’s attention from Donatello.

 

“Michelangelo, your brother is merely worried about Donatello’s form.” Splinter chastised as Mikey put his glass down against the table with a little more force than necessary, spilling a bit of soda onto the table.

 

“Donnie is fine, the turtle has good taste.” Michelangelo continued stubbornly as he got up and leaned over the table to angrily scoop up some chili and fill Donatello’s plate again. “How many times does a turtle have to faint to get some food around here?” He continued, serving a small mountain of rice on top of the extra chili before sitting back down heavily in his chair. “No wonder he doesn’t make an effort to eat with us if you’re going to be mean to him when he does.”

 

Donatello stared at the pile of food on his plate he probably wasn’t going to eat now despite Michelangelo’s efforts and gave his brother sitting beside him a small smile that quickly fell from his face as the others continued to sit in silence.

 

“You’re exaggerating. There’s nothing wrong with him. Just leave the turtle alone, it’s not like he’s stuffing his face with cakes, a little meat and beans won’t do him no harm.” Raphael added after a moment, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed in front of him. “Right, Brainiac?”

 

“ _ Any _ harm.” Donatello mumbled without meaning to, not being able to help himself before correcting.

 

“Huh?” Raphael looked back at Donatello confused, his arms falling from where they were crossed.

 

“You mean: it won’t do me ANY harm.” He said more clearly. “If it won’t do me NO harm that is a double negative so it means it  _ will _ do me harm.”

 

Raphael sputtered as Michelangelo laughed at him, cutting some of the tension in the room. “You know what I meant!”

 

“Yeah.” Donatello smiled at him. “Thanks, but I’m done.” He said as he got up, taking his glass and plate to the sink. “I’ve got some things I need to get back to at the lab anyway so if you’ll excuse me...”

 

Donatello made a quick exit, hoping he could avoid speaking about his eating habits any longer but Leonardo got up as he was leaving and followed him, intercepting him just before he could reach the safety of his lab.

 

“Don! Wait!” Leonardo held Donatello by the arm to keep him from walking away.

 

“It’s fine, Leo, I’m just busy.” Donatello interrupted as he shrugged off Leo’s hand.

 

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off that way. It’s just that I’ve been really worried about you lately and, well, the others have been too but they won’t tell you these things so I thought I should…” Leonardo’s explanation trailed off when he noticed Donatello wasn’t even looking in his direction, his head still turned towards the lab.

 

When Donatello  _ did _ turn to look at Leo it was with cold, serious eyes. “I understand. It’s fine.” He repeated before stepping away and closing the door behind him, the ‘do not disturb, experiment in process’ light going on immediately after.

 

He’d have to be more careful, he decided once he was alone in his lab, going over the test results as he chewed on an energy bar. Somehow, this year he’d managed to alarm his whole family and become the centre of attention at the worst possible moment. He couldn’t afford another slip and he had to get Leonardo off his tail all the time or it would spell disaster.

 

“It’s going to be a tough season.” He said to himself with a long sigh as he looked up pharmacies they could hit to get some of the supplements he needed.


	6. Chapter 6

The days following his second lay back when he was thirteen went by in a bit of a blur. His family had allowed him to sleep most of the time away as they would when one of them had the flu or was feeling poorly, and mostly he could just pretend that was the reason. In the morning they’d nudge him awake gently for breakfast and extend his bedroll in a darker corner of the lair so the rest of the family wouldn’t disturb him as they went about on their daily activities.

 

Donatello was grateful for their attentiveness at first but didn’t fail to notice the way they all spoke in hushed voices and the curious looks in his direction. He guessed Master Splinter had talked to them, otherwise he would have been assaulted with questions as soon as he’d woken up the next morning.

 

It took Mikey three days before he asked, snuggled in his bed with him one afternoon with the excuse of wanting a nap. Donatello told him the same story he’d told Master Splinter, no point in changing it now even it wasn’t very believable.

 

“You fell?” Michelangelo parroted back in a scared little voice, his eyes sparkling with tears as his mouth trembled.

 

He watched his brother’s reaction with apprehension, the way the tears pooled in his blue eyes and then slid over his skin. For a fearful moment he thought he must have said something he didn’t mean to, that he’d given himself away but as he repeated his own words in his head he couldn’t find anything.

 

“No, it’s alright, Mikey. I just fell. I’m okay. I’m...” He said as he tried to comfort his brother, but he had started shaking too.

 

The truth was he wasn’t okay, he was as far from okay as he’d ever been. As he repeated those words out loud pretending they were true, he tried to comfort Mikey in the way he wished he would be comforted. Michelangelo just clung to him and sobbed with little hiccups as he tried to speak, his words coming out warbled and difficult to understand.

 

“Y-you can tell me. It’s okay,” Mikey repeated over and over again. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

 

Donatello pulled his smaller brother closer and Mikey burrowed into his embrace, both of them trembling. _I could tell him_ , he thought, _I could share my secret with Mikey and he’d understand, he would-_

 

No. It was a terrible idea.

 

Michelangelo wouldn’t be able to hold onto a secret like that. Mikey would try to convince him to tell the others and when he refused he’d end up telling them anyway even if it was by accident or out of fear for him. He couldn’t use his little brother to unburden himself, it wasn’t fair of him to ask Mikey to do something he wasn’t be capable of.

 

“I’m okay, Mikey.” Donatello told his brother instead. “Don’t worry, I’m okay.”

 

_But he wasn’t acting “okay” was he?_

 

He’d been waking up with a horrible pressure on his chest and in his throat, his face wet with tears. He’d also been crying on his own in the bathroom, hiding himself away for long periods of time just wallowing in his pain and pity. He’d sit curled up on the toilet when even a tiny pee turned into agony as the liquid burned against the broken skin of his tail. He’d despaired in those moments alone, sick with fear about having an infection and perhaps needing stitches down there where he couldn’t do them himself or worrying he’d ripped something deeper inside him.

 

Donatello realised he had to grow up quickly and begin his charade that moment. He couldn’t afford to keep acting the way he was. He was alarming his family by not going back to normal immediately and they’d start asking questions soon that he wouldn't be able to answer. If this was going to work he’d have to start coming up with a plan.

 

Donatello washed his sheets and put away his bedroll that same afternoon, ignoring the surprised looks he got from his family when he joined them for practice. During meditation began to think out his plan, beginning with a talk with Master Splinter about needing more privacy and the way they could expand their living space a little to accommodate separate bedrooms.

 

It was also around this time that he’d started researching and keeping record of his condition. The way he’d started thinking about it in cold, clinical terms helped with his coping as he detached himself from what was going on. That traumatising experience became a list of measured symptoms with approximate dates as he tried to recall everything that had lead up to that moment in the sewer tunnel. The terrifying sensations became nothing more than numbers on paper. Then he’d contrasted and labelled them with technical terms he found in Master Splinter’s medical books.

 

He’d only faltered once, his body shaking and feeling like he was going to throw up as he neared panic when he’d found out about “self fertilization”. Donatello hadn’t even considered it, had managed to think of the eggs as just something his body produced that needed to be expelled like a kidney stone. The thought that there could have been something living in them as he’d smashed them with his hands gave him nightmares for months. It still gave him nightmares sometimes even though he now knew he was practically infertile, a side effect of his condition and the unnatural* chemical cocktail his hormones produced in him.

 

It was only thanks to his preparation that the following year he was able to lay again in secret, sneaking away from the lair once his contractions were close but he could still walk and get far enough away to not be heard or disturbed. He prepared a pack full of things he’d need while he was in labour, including items to record his progress and what happened to him and to clean up afterwards. He’d also prepared previously scavenged items he’d hidden so he had an alibi for his absence. Donatello still got into trouble for sneaking out of the lair without telling anyone.

 

But he’d gotten away with it.

 

In the new lair it was much easier, he almost wanted to thank Baxter Stockman for destroying their old home. He didn’t even have to leave now. He had a lab he could lock with the excuse of doing “delicate experiments”. All he had to do was stage and prepare the results beforehand and he had all the time he required alone.

 

His determination to keep his secret had faltered the first time he’d laid twice during a season, horrified that he’d have to go through this more than once a year when he’d only barely recovered. A couple years ago he’d even had a third lay in the season, the first had happened surprisingly early due to an exceptionally warm February spent at the farmhouse that had triggered his cycle before it should have.

 

None of that mattered to him anymore, it was just additional data added to his journals where he recorded his seasons. This would be his sixth recorded season and it read mostly the same as the previous ones, except for the side-notes he’d started writing about his iron levels. Data held no emotions or judgements and he looked at the string of annotations he’d been writing this far in the year with the same calm detachment as he would with any other routine experiment. He recorded the date, his age, weight and symptoms, as well as the approximate number of days he had left before he would lay.

 

Sighing he rose from his desk and slid the journal back into the space between thick, old manuals where he kept it. He’d thought about keeping it in some locked drawer or the back of a cabinet somewhere but there really was no point to it. He had dozens of similar journals and his family had no interest in reading them. It was best left in plain sight instead of having someone walk in on him being all secretive. Before leaving the lab to get some breakfast he made sure to pick up the papers with his test results and the list of pharmacies and addresses.

 

It was Raph’s turn to cook which meant he’d pulled out a box of cereal, the sliced bread and a carton of milk and you could help yourself. Raphael was sitting in his usual spot munching on some sugary, colourful loops as he read the sports section of the newspaper.

 

“What a feast!” Donatello said with a smile as he popped a couple slices of bread in the toaster.

 

Raphael grinned back, knowing Donatello preferred his simpler way of going about breakfast. “Only the best for my family. I really shouldn’t spoil you guys but you deserve it.” His eyes darted to the papers that Donatello had placed in his spot in front of him and he reached for one, turning it around.

 

“What’s folic acid?” Raphael asked as he read the charts and numbers, all traces of his good mood gone as he tried to make sense of what he had in front of him.

 

“Oh! Ah, I wanted to go over that with Leonardo...” Donatello started to say.

 

“This your blood test?” Raphael frowned as Donatello nodded, and went on with buttering his toast as his brother read. “I’m no doctor, but ain’t these numbers here supposed to be between these other numbers here?”

 

Raphael continued reading through the chart in silence after Donatello nodded again and then through the paragraph he had written on the bottom with his conclusions. Donatello felt as if he were awaiting some kind of judgement, the only sound in the kitchen was of his knife scraping against his bread. He wasn’t sure what kind of a reaction he was hoping to get from Raph but somehow it felt important that it be the right one.

 

After waiting nervously for a while, Raphael put the paper down. “Ya got anemia?” He asked, still hunched over the charts. When Donatello nodded a third time in response he shook his head sadly. “We should be taking better care of ya.”

 

“You shouldn’t be doing anything, Raph.” Donatello answered with a smile. “I’m the one who let it get so bad. I’ve been looking up places we could go to get the supplements-”

 

“We’ll get ya whatever you need, Donnie.” Raphael said as he got up, heading for the fridge. “Let me make you something better than a piece of toast for breakfast. Ya hungry?” He rummaged around in the refrigerator for a moment. “Your dinner’s still in here.” He frowned as he pulled out a plate with chilli and rice covered in cling-film. “Beans got a lot of iron in them, don’t they? Want me to heat them up for you?”

 

“They do but I don’t think I should eat that right before practice.” Donatello started to say but Raph put the plate in the microwave anyway after peeling off the plastic.

 

“Let’s get you healthy first, Don.” Raph continued. “You should be taking it easier while you get better. Let me deal with the rest, I’ll have a talk with Leo and Splinter.”

 

“What do you need to talk to me about?” Leonardo asked, catching the end of Raph’s sentence as he walked into the kitchen.

 

Donatello reached for the papers he’d brought originally to show Leonardo but Raph snatched them away before he could. “There’s gonna be some changes around here, starting with you backing off Don.”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t say it tha-” Donatello tried to intercept the beginning of the argument.

 

“What are you talking about?” Leonardo interrupted. “If it’s about last night-”

 

“Damn right it’s about last night!” Raph slammed the papers down in front of where Leonardo stood at the table, making all the plates and things on it jump, including Donatello.

 

Leonardo only held Raph’s glare, both of them not backing down until the beeping of the microwave made Raphael turn away. Donatello winced as Raph closed the the microwave door with a little more force than necessary and plonked the plate in front of him in the same way. He really didn’t feel like eating a full plate of chilli for breakfast but Raph wasn’t even looking at him.

 

“Maybe it’s not such a good idea to eat that before training.” Leonardo told Donatello who just shrugged and looked back at Raph.

 

“Donnie ain’t practising today.” Raphael stated, crossing his arms and giving Leonardo a defiant stare.

 

Leonardo’s eyes darted to Don, looking him over quickly for any sign of illness before placing his attention back onto Raph. “Is he feeling sick again?”

 

“ _He_ is right here.” Donatello lifted up his hand. “And I think I can manage some practice, we just have to-”

 

“Read. This.” Raphael interrupted him, holding up the now slightly crinkled paper up to Leonardo’s snout before Leo snatched it away irritatedly.

 

“Are you sure these numbers are correct?” Leonardo asked as his eyes darted over the charts and he probably didn’t mean anything by it but it rubbed Raphael the wrong way.

 

“What? Are ya saying he faked them? Is that it?” Raphael scoffed.

 

“That’s not what I meant.”

 

“Then just admit you were an asshole when your brother was sick! What kind of a leader are ya?!” Raphael bellowed a couple inches from Leonardo’s face.

 

“You guys were just as worried about his weight as I was!” Leonardo pointed an accusing finger at Raph, jabbing it at his chest. “You just left it up to me to deal with it so I could be the bad one! You were the one who first said he probably had a stash of food in the lab!”

 

Raphael shoved Leonardo back and actually growled, baring his teeth and that was when Don decided he’d had enough. “Okay, stop!” Donatello called out as he pushed himself between his two snarling brothers. “This is getting ridiculous, can we all just calm down?!” Even in Raph and Leo standards they were getting too aggressive over this and he had a feeling it was more about their hormones than about him.

 

“What is going on here?!” Master Splinter called from the door and a sleepy Michelangelo woke up as he peeked over the rat to the scene in the kitchen.

 

That seemed to snap both of them out of their glaring match and they stepped away from where they were pressed against Don as he tried to shove them back but it took Splinter asking a second time for an explanation for Leonardo to finally sit down. Hesitating about where to start, Donatello began a recount of his findings, or at least the part of those findings he was willing to share with his family.

 

Donatello had to admit he felt slightly relieved when Leonardo took over the conversation as he began making his own plans to go out that night and retrieve the medicine he needed. He wasn't _lying_ to his father per se, everything Don had said was true. It just wasn't the whole truth and that still made him uncomfortable.

 

Donatello was silent during most of the conversation, making his own plans in his mind. If they were going to hit a pharmacy instead of asking April to purchase the medicine for him, there was a chance he could get his hands on more items he required for his condition that he wouldn't be able to if he had to go through someone else. He wouldn't have to answer any questions if he got the items himself. Now Donatello only needed to figure out how he was going to get Leonardo to allow him to go after his embarrassing performance from the day before.

 

* * *

 

Leonardo eyed Donatello cautiously from where he was seated in his chair, not wanting to be noticed and paying no attention to what was on the tv. His brother seemed better after a week since they managed to get him the medication he needed. The guilt from having misinterpreted his brother’s symptoms still weighed on him and even though Donatello kept saying he was fine there was still something off about him.

 

It wasn’t the first time Leonardo had had this feeling though he’d learned not to trust his hunches during this time of year. He knew his hormones were messing with his instincts, something he usually relied on heavily, but he couldn’t shake the perception that something was wrong and the fact that he’d had confirmation that Donatello was ill wasn’t helping.

 

Leonardo couldn’t believe his eyes when he’d watched Donatello in full gear walking over to them as they were making their way to the lift, intent on accompanying them to the pharmacy break-in. Don had argued that they needed him to make sure they brought back the right medicine, that they'd take much longer to retrieve it if he wasn't with them and finally that he would be coming whether they liked it or not. Despite his firm orders, he’d been unable to keep Don home, where he would be safe.

 

It hadn’t even been thirty-six hours since he’d witnessed his brother collapse during training. A puppet with his strings cut sinking in slow motion to the ground. It was only because he’d been watching Don intently that he saw the slight tremor in his muscles before they relaxed while the others gasped and murmured about his defiance. Leonardo had called out his name loudly, causing everyone to fall silent and turn to him instead of Don as he slowly teetered back and fell. Only his quick reaction made it possible for Leo to reach his brother, catching him before he hit the ground and then lowering him gently to it.

 

The image replayed in his mind over and over as they made their way to their target, Donatello’s skin pale and cold, his body slack, unseeing eyes staring through him and his breath fast and shallow. Leonardo had stared down at him in disbelief until Michelangelo pulled Don away from him to turn him onto his side as he watched dumbfounded. The panic took over Leo's mind and paralysed him as Donatello's limbs had flopped like a rag doll's while Michelangelo shifted his body. Only Raph's outburst as he was confronted had pulled him out of his trance.

 

The following day on their way to the pharmacy his own footing had faltered when Leonardo jumped the first alley. It was an easy jump and normally he wouldn't think twice about it, but the image of Donatello had the panic settle into his mind again. Donnie, staggering and falling over the edge of the building, body pale, limbs slack and unseeing eyes staring at him from the concrete below.

 

Perhaps his hormones were feeding his paranoia but by the time they made it to the pharmacy, Leonardo was winded. Raphael gave him an odd look because of it, the run had been an easy one and they'd walked part of the way there. He didn't understand that it was Leo's fear, lodged firmly in his chest like a jagged rock, that didn't let him breathe.

 

He kept everyone close together to scout the building instead of spreading them out to survey the area faster as they'd normally do. Thankfully, no one fought him on this even if they were taking a ridiculous amount of unnecessary precautions. Leonardo could tell the others were on edge too, unsure if it was because of the way he was acting or because of Don. Probably both.

 

The mission had been carried out without a hitch. Cameras and alarms were disabled, Donatello managed to find everything he needed relatively quickly, they left all the money they had plus a note detailing what was taken and a promise to pay the rest back and then they'd returned home at the estimated time.

 

The feeling hadn't gone away.

 

Even now, a week later, he could still feel the ghost of that panic lurking in the back of his mind, warning him of a danger that he wasn't sure was even there. Leonardo knew Donatello was keeping information from him. He wasn't as good a liar as he thought he was, but there was no way to tell if it was something important or just the usual embarrassing things they kept to themselves at this time of year. His smart brother was already prone to reclusiveness and secrecy, it could be nothing. Don did seem to be getting better.

 

And yet...

 

Leonardo frowned at the glimpse of discomfort he caught on Don's face as he rose from the couch. It was gone almost as soon as he'd seen it but he was certain he hadn't imagined it. Coming to a decision he followed after Donatello to the lab.

 

“Don, can I speak to you a moment?” Leonardo asked before entering but walked inside and closed the door behind him before he could be refused. It was a fine line he walked with his brothers between being loved and being rejected but he had to do what was necessary to keep them safe.

 

Leonardo pretended not to notice the way Donatello huffed in annoyance before speaking. “I suppose you are going to do it anyway so go right ahead.”

 

Perhaps this wasn't the right time but there had been no right times and he didn't think this could wait any longer. Maybe he should start off with a less difficult conversation. “How are you doing? Have you run any more tests to check your progress?”

 

There was another small sigh and instead of relaxing at his inquiry, Donatello tensed and then lifted his eyes and held his gaze. Leonardo recognized that look. He was getting ready to lie.

 

“I'm fine. Well, I'm getting there. These things are slow but I'm not in any danger and I'm progressing better than expected, really. At least, better than a human would, but we do tend to heal faster than regular humans. I haven't printed out any results though, I didn't think it was necessary unless there was some sort of anomaly you should be made aware of and there isn't. No anomalies, everything is fine.”

 

Leonardo tried not to frown at the lengthy, ambiguous answer he was given. What was he not saying? Why would he hide it if there was something wrong?

 

He must have given away his thoughts because Donatello's expression softened, he unfolded his arms and stepped a bit closer. “Really, Leo, there's nothing for you to worry about.”

 

Leonardo searched his gaze, knowing he wouldn't find any answers there. It was the vague wording that was making him uneasy, but when Donatello didn't want to talk about something there was just no way of getting it out of him. He wanted to believe his brother. Surely if there was something important Donatello would tell him, right?

 

“But how are you _feeling_? You sometimes seem like you're in pain.” Leonardo ventured, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder in a way that he hoped was comforting.

 

It was always a hit-or-miss situation with his brothers when he expressed his concern over them. Sometimes they seemed grateful for it, even sought out his comfort and other times they were offended. He could never quite figure out which it was going to be beforehand. He watched Donatello grimace slightly and then shift his eyes away as he fiddled with his belt. This was more like a Donatello who was giving him the reluctant truth.

 

“I'm just feeling quite stiff,” Donatello replied with a bit of a shrug.

 

Leonardo exhaled, some of his own tension and worry lifting with the reply. That made sense. With their strict training regimen, missing out on the usual intense daily physical activity they were used to could have this kind of effect on your muscles along with Donatello's extenuating circumstances.

 

He hadn't just gone from 100 to 0 for a week, the fact was Don had already been struggling before then and would probably already need some special training to ease him back into their schedule when he was ready for it. Patrolling was off the table until further notice and thankfully Don hadn't fought him on it.

 

This was good. Well, it wasn't _good_ but it was something he could work with, something he understood. Perhaps he couldn't help Don with his medical condition but he could do this much for his brother and maybe if they spent more time together and let him prove that he was just looking out for him, Don would tell him the things he was keeping to himself.

 

“I can help you with some light exercise and your dietary plan, something that'll help to ease you back into training and make sure you don't lose too much muscle tone while... you... recover.” Leonardo's voice trailed off as Donatello's expression closed again and he pulled away, Leo's hand falling limp to his side.

 

He'd crossed over that line again.

 

“I told you I'm fine, Leonardo. I can do that on my own.” Donatello snapped and turned his back to him, signalling he was done with the conversation.

 

Leonardo only stared at his brother's carapace. Lately it seemed everything he did took him one step forward and two steps back with Don. “I'm only trying to help. Let me help you,” Leonardo said in a pleading voice.

 

“Thanks, Leo.” Donatello answered more gently but still didn't face him. “I'll let you know if I need your help. Close the door on your way out, please. I've got work to do.”

 

With that, Leonardo was dismissed. He headed slowly towards the door, not wanting to say anything else to make things worse and closed it silently behind him. On his way to his room, Leo wondered if there was a way to reach reach his brothers and make them understand that he was only looking out for them. He wanted nothing more than to keep them safe and happy. Maybe someday he'd find the right words to say.

 

 

* * *

 

*Donatello uses the word “unnatural” because it is a reflection of his rejection towards his nature.

 


End file.
